


combat baby

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Series: Asterisms [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Competence Kink, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: In which Cassian watches Jyn in action, and finds it slightly distracting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the Rogue One kinkmeme: Jyn/Cassian, watching her fight turns him on  
> [[Original prompt](http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=85820#cmt85820)]

Cassian has been in position on this roof since before dawn, his head in the floating, hyper-aware state of stalking his prey. He is waiting for an Imperial Governor to walk out of a certain archway so that he can shatter the man’s skull across the steps of the Palace of Justice. (The irony is noted.) Bodhi and Kaytoo are waiting on the ship that brought them to this planet, ready to burn sky as soon as the rest of the team is on board. And the last member—Jyn—is in the square below, about to create the disruption that will draw the Governor’s bodyguards away.

For now, Cassian’s rifle is laid close to hand as he watches the market crowd through a set of quadnocs, scanning for a patch of faded blue: the scarf over Jyn’s head. He spots it at last, at the same moment the comlink in his ear fills with her voice as she starts an argument with a stallholder about the quality of his produce. The Rodian is an Alliance sympathizer, and has been told to help escalate the quarrel. He’s doing a good job, calling Jyn every name in the galaxy—a few of them make even Cassian wince—and telling her to “take it up with the Governor” if she doesn’t like it. 

Cassian can hear the poorly disguised laughter in Jyn’s voice as she screams that she will, then, the Empire can go kriff itself with a rusty spoon, she just wants some jogan fruit for her kids. He rolls his eyes at her overdone histrionics, but they work. The next time he sweeps the nocs across the square, six white figures have left the steps of the Palace and are pushing their way through the crowd toward the disturbance starting to swirl around Jyn.

“Bucketheads incoming, eight o’clock,” Cassian murmurs so that the comlink can pick up his quiet warning and carry it to Jyn. 

Jyn dips her chin, a tiny acknowledgment in the middle of her tirade. But she ignores the approaching troopers until the squad leader grabs for her arm. Then she whips her batons from her belt, snaps them out to full extension, and strikes.

Cassian hasn’t seen Jyn in close-quarters action like this since Jedha. He’s observed her in training, of course, hand-to-hand on the mat with other infantry or practicing her strokes on the training dummies. Even when she’s holding back, the sight distracts him enough that he tries not to indulge in watching very often.

She’s not holding back now. Brutally graceful, she whirls in tight circles, ensuring that her back is never open long enough for an opponent to get in a disabling blow. Her elbow smashes under the chin of a white mask, her knee slams into its face as the trooper sags forward. Her batons are steel extensions of her arms, cracking against armour in a bone-rattling rhythm. She’s magnificent. 

And through it all, Cassian can hear her via the comlink: her quickened breathing, her soft grunts of exertion when she lands a strike, her satisfied huff when a trooper goes down and stays down.

He’s heard those noises before, in the dreams that he wakes from hard and tries to wipe from his brain before he’s face to face with sleepy-eyed Jyn over her first mug of caf in the mess. He wishes he could yank the com out and throw it away. Knowing what she sounds like panting in his ear won’t make those dreams any easier to deal with. 

It’s making things awkward right now, too; lying prone on a gravel roof isn’t a comfortable position in which to get a sudden erection. He shifts his hips minutely as Jyn demolishes the last trooper with a crushing blow to the throat.

_Force sake, Andor, get a grip_. Now is not the time to get sidetracked by his instinctive response to Jyn’s beautiful ferocity. The Governor will be exiting the Palace any moment, without his full complement of troopers thanks to her, and Cassian has to be ready to take the shot. He drops the nocs and picks up his rifle, scanning the stairs through his scope. 

Cassian may no longer be watching Jyn, but he can hear her breathing pick up speed again as her footsteps follow suit and she darts away through the heaving, stirred-up crowd. 

“On my way back to the ship,” she reports. “Got rid of a few of them for you.”

“I saw that.”

“Having fun yet?” Her voice in his ear is playful, intimate. 

Cassian bites his lip and adjusts his position again. “More than you’d think,” he says honestly, and is rewarded with a breathless laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Another Metric song for the title because why not.


End file.
